The question hung in the air between them, unanswered and unanswerable.
Maelor's jaw tightened. His pale blue eyes met Jack's gaze, and in that moment, something shifted in the understanding between them.
The king had come expecting to negotiate with someone who could be reasoned with, someone operating within the bounds of conventional logic and self-interest.
He was, instead, confronted by an individual who had encountered a deity and endured. This person had survived a profound psychological crisis and emerged fundamentally altered, now embodying a divine lineage.
Someone who would not forget what had been done to him.
"I came to make a bargain," Maelor said carefully, his political instincts reasserting themselves even as the weight of Jack's question settled into the space between them like a blade.
Jack's smile was thin, sharp as broken glass, and carried no warmth whatsoever.
"Did you?" he asked.
